Sole Survivor
by V Tsuion
Summary: "One night when years had passed / The skies shook from a fiery blast / And there a starship - safe at last! / To come rescue this survivor / They beckoned him inside / But only man, he would not ride / Instead he found a place to hide / For he's the sole survivor" (Sole Survivor by Blue Oyster Cult)
1. Chapter 1

Science Officer's Log: We are in orbit around a telluric planet on the cold end of the habitable range. The planet is known to have a diverse ecosystem which is dominated by a pre-warp Vulcanoid species. However, while we have been in orbit, our sensors have detected only one organism whose signature may match that of the planet's known inhabitants. I will teleport to the planet's surface with a research team to gather further data.

* * *

A landing party of six Vulcans traversed the inorganic jungle in optimal formation. Science Officer Spock led them along a swath of highly viscous petroleum that cut through the forest of towering rectangular prisms in an imperfect grid. The path was lined with silent metal automatons, and the Vulcans' sensors frequently detected the presence of various small organisms, which occasionally darted across the path between areas of refuge.

"The sensors do not indicate the presence of a Vulcanoid," the Chief Biologist reported from the left flank.

"It appears to be moving southeast from your current coordinates," the on duty science officer responded from the bridge, her voice intercut with static from their communicators. "If it continues on its current course, you will be able to intercept it."

They proceeded at the heading and speed provided by the officer to a towering reflective wall. The Chief Biologist could detect the Vulcanoid on the other side. They circled around the prism until they reached a rectangular cut out of sufficient size for two Vulcans to pass comfortably through. The sheet of metal blocking it did not open through the usual means, and in the end it took two of them to open it by force.

The sheet of metal fell to the ground with a clang that echoed against the rocky interior surface. They climbed a terraced mound of rock encased in a thin layer of rigid organic polymer into the upper layers of the prism, toward the Vulcanoid's signature. It moved upwards as they did, but slowly the distance between the Vulcanoid and the landing party decreased, until it ceased climbing and instead moved deeper into the tower. Each opening in the internal structure was locked as the cut out in the exterior wall had been, but they were all cleared with reduced effort.

Finally, they cornered the creature. It crouched on the far end of a dark chamber like a wild animal cowering in a cave. It was strikingly similar to a Vulcan in appearance, as had been described in past reports, but its posture suggested something much more feral than an organism likely capable of creating the complicated structures present on the planet. It eyed them with open mistrust, as though it would lash out at the slightest provocation. It was a frightened animal ready to fight for its life.

As the highest ranking officer present, it was Spock's duty to step forward and approach the creature. He spoke through the universal translator, his voice level and clear, "We convey peaceful greetings from the planet Vulcan."

Spock paused to allow the creature time to respond, but it merely shifted on its haunches, its expression unyielding.

"We have no intention of causing you any further harm. We are are merely present to investigate the cataclysm that has occurred here. You are safe."

The creature hesitated, its eyes widened and then narrowed in what may have been confusion. It's mouth opened and closed in silence, before it let out a hoarse croak that the translator could not interpret.

"Are you capable of communication?" Spock asked.

It bobbed its head up and down, as though in response.

Spock remained silent to provide the creature with ample opportunity to elaborate.

Instead of speaking, it slowly raised itself up on its hind legs, though its back and knees remained bent, poised to fight or flee. At full height, the Vulcanoid would have been almost as tall as Spock. Their eyes met, and suddenly he was aware of a prying intelligence that had not been apparent before, though it was twisted with raw emotion. Perhaps this was one of the "humans" of which the dated reports had spoken after all - intelligent, yet illogical.

"What are you?" he croaked, his voice barely audible.

Spock answered, "We come from the planet Vulcan in the Andoran system."

"You're aliens?" the Vulcanoid asked, his voice still rough, but louder. His eyes were wide with disbelief.

Spock quirked his eyebrow at the imprecise label, but confirmed it all the same, "Yes, we are from a planet that is not your own."

"What do you want?" the Vulcanoid demanded. Its muscles tensed for a fight.

"As I stated previously, we intend to investigate the cataclysm that occured on this planet, decimating its sentient population. We do not intend to interfere with your life, and will leave you alone-"

"No!" he shouted. The look in the Vulcanoid's eyes gave Spock a jolt of something that he did not quite understand. "Please. I can't…" he trailed off.

"We typically do not interfere with the progress of pre-warp civilizations." The Vulcanoid made to protest, but Spock continued, "However, there is an exception for circumstances such as this one. As you appear to be the only remaining member of your species, we are authorized to offer you a temporary position on our starship, and passage to Vulcan or one of its colonies, where you may become a citizen, if you so desire. You have until we depart-"

"Yes, please bring me with you!" the Vulcanoid interrupted again, his desperation was clear. "I can't stand it here alone any longer, take me anywhere."

"Very well," Spock acknowledged his decision. "Do you have a name?"

The Vulcanoid hesitated. When he spoke, he did so slowly, as though the words were foreign to him, "James Tiberius Kirk."


	2. Chapter 2

James Kirk had lost count of how many years it had been since he'd interacted with another human being. The Vulcans, for all their emotionless demeanors and "logical" precision, were more than human enough for him. When he wasn't being evaluated by the ship's doctor, he trailed behind the Vulcan who had initially reached out to him, Science Officer Spock, like the old abandoned dog that had joined him in his wanderings for a time, happy just to have someone there, even if they couldn't replace everyone else who was gone.

Once, long ago, he had savored solitude. It was rare, and he was in high demand, and there was nothing he had enjoyed more than lying on his back beneath the stars and wishing himself away from the world. After, well, he'd had a lot of time to look up at the stars, but it was never quite the same. All it did was remind him of how alone he was, lost in an empty void. He couldn't bring himself to believe in aliens. The false hope would have killed him long before it proved miraculously true.

Now he lay on his back in some spare room on a starship, starring up at the dark ceiling. There had been no question, he was merely shown the room and told that was where he would be sleeping. No one had doubted he would survive a night alone. But even with the hum of the starship all around him, he still couldn't believe that he was not alone. In the beginning, he had spent months, years maybe, searching for just one other survivor. He _knew_ , no matter where he went, there was not anyone hiding just behind the next door. He would _never_ be anything but alone ever again.

He lay frozen in the darkness, too terrified of what he knew he would not find to move. He had finally cracked from the strain, imagined up all these eerily humanoid aliens to save himself from his own solitude. Or maybe he was just dreaming, and when he woke up it would all be gone, save for the sharp ache of loneliness, made more acute by the vision of what was absent.

He could not do it! He threw himself out of the bed. He just had to keep moving, that was all he knew how to do any more. He would not cry into another night. Perhaps all the reminders of the city were too much after all. He could flee and seek solace in the wilderness; there, at least, he could imagine the world unchanged by humanity's presence or absence. He gathered what few essentials he could comfortably carry, and was out the door before he had entirely formulated a plan.

He nearly ran straight into a Vulcan.

He froze. He could only stop and stare as she apologized and passed with stern indifference.

 _He was not alone._

The hall he entered was not busy, but even as the alien apparition faded into the distance, he could hear more coming around the bend. He did not know for how long he stood there, watching Vulcans flit in and out of view as though they were truly real. He did not dare reach out to touch them, lest it break the illusion.

There was only one thing he could think to do. As though of their own volition, his legs guided him down the corridor, narrowly avoiding the Vulcans bustling past, to the science officer's quarters, as though somehow the existence of one persistent presence could confirm the reality of the situation. The door slid open of its own accord and he found the Vulcan - the _same_ Vulcan - seated on the bed, his legs crossed and eyes closed, as though in meditation. After so long sentenced to silence, he could not find the words to say, so he waited there, mute, as the Vulcan opened one eye, then the other to peer at him in confusion.

"Are you in need of something?" Spock asked, his voice curt.

It took some time for Jim to find his voice, but the Vulcan waited patiently. Finally, he said, his voice still a little hoarse, "I couldn't stand it, being alone in that room."

"I reason that the quarters you have been assigned are not the source of your problem?"

Jim shook his head.

The Vulcan said nothing, as though he was waiting for Jim to continue. It took Jim a long moment to realize why.

"No," he clarified.

The Vulcan paused and seemed to consider the situation before offering, "If it is company you require, you have permission to remain in my quarters, or, if you would prefer, I can bring you to the infirmary so that you may be observed by our medical staff."

Jim shook his head again. "Here's fine, if that's alright with you. I don't mean to intrude," he hastily tacked on, only belatedly remembering that he was the only one terrified of being left alone, even for a night.

"You will not disturb me." Jim couldn't tell if the Vulcan meant it as a reassurance or an instruction.

Jim nodded all the same and made to lie down on the floor. The Vulcan watched him with intent interest, and quirked an eyebrow at him as he began to settle himself.

"I am not familiar with the human custom; however, Vulcans find beds more comfortable and sanitary for sleeping in," Spock remarked.

Jim stopped in the middle of lying down and did a double take. The Vulcans had clearly explained that they did not experience emotions, and Jim had concluded that ruled out a sense of humor, but maybe he was wrong. He couldn't tell from Spock's tone, but it sounded like a joke to him.

Jim let out a harsh, choking laugh at the surprise of it.

The Vulcan was by his side in an instant, his arms angled as though he was ready to support Jim if he were to fall over without warning. "Are you certain you do not need to be examined by a doctor?"

His throat was a little sore, but he shook his head and said with a faint smile, "I was just surprised to hear you make a joke."

The Vulcan appeared affronted at that, and put a little distance between them. "You are unfamiliar with our customs, so it stands to reason that you meant no insult; therefore, allow me to correct your misconception. Vulcans have forsworn all emotions in favor of pure reason, and therefore do not 'joke.' Do you see the logic?"

Jim nodded. "Sorry, humans…" he trailed off - he was the only human left.

"Your mistake is understandable. To clarify my previous statement, I recommend sleeping in the bed, if it is acceptable by your customs to do so."

"Sure," Jim said, hoisting himself up from the ground, "Though I don't mean to take over your room just because I was having a bit of trouble sleeping."

"The space is already designated for sleeping, and I have no intention of using it. Vulcans require less sleep than the reports indicate that humans need, and we prefer to spend the analogous time in meditation."

"If you're sure," Jim said, and carefully lowered himself onto the bed under the Vulcan's watchful eye.

He lay flat on his back and tried to disturb the carefully arranged covers as little as possible, and stared up at the ceiling. On the edge of his vision, he could still see the Vulcan examining him with those dark, alien eyes, reminding him that he was not alone even as they sped through the vacuum of space, away from the only planet he had ever known. The last human on Earth had now left to live among aliens on some alien world. He would no longer be alone, but he could never truly belong.

"It is very different," the Vulcan spoke suddenly, jarring Jim from his thoughts. Jim hadn't noticed him turn away, but the Vulcan was now seated on the side of the bed, looking towards the wall. He continued, "but I am also the only member of my species."

Jim opened his mouth to protest and felt hot tears threatening at his eyes, but the Vulcan wasn't taunting him, he was too hesitant, and if Jim could see his face he may have even seen some emotion despite everything the Vulcans had said to the contrary.

He finally explained, his reluctance audible, "I am a hybrid; half Vulcan and half Romulan, and wholly neither."

Jim had never heard of a "Romulan" before and hardly knew what a Vulcan was, but the isolation was familiar enough. If a half-Vulcan felt so ostracized, Jim could only imagine what it would be like to live among them as a human - another species entirely. For an instant he longed for Earth and all that was familiar about it, but Earth had long since ceased to be a refuge. There was nothing left there but endless solitude.

For not the first time, and he doubted it would be the last, he was relieved to see the Vulcan's - Spock's - sharp eyes on him, reminding him that he was no longer alone. Jim spoke up at last, "Well, at least we have each other now."

Spock quirked an angled eyebrow at him as though the possibility had not occurred to him before, but he seemed to be considering it. Finally, he said, "That is accurate."

Jim grinned. Even if Vulcans denied all humor, maybe Romulans didn't - not that he was going to ask Spock about it.

Jim's response seemed to encourage him, because Spock continued, "The typical procedure would be to transport you to Vulcan or one of its colonies, per your preference, and give you the resources you require to reside there for the remainder of your lifespan. However, it may be possible for you to undergo the requisite training and serve as a non-Vulcan adjunct to the Vulcan Expeditionary Group, which is tasked with charting the galaxy and researching other planets."

Jim didn't miss the "non-Vulcan adjunct" qualifier, but humans would have probably done the same if they were the ones traveling the galaxy, interacting with aliens. So he ignored it, grinned, and said, "And if I did that, would I be seeing more of you?"

"Yes," Spock answered. "My next assignment is to serve as a professor at the Academy on Vulcan, where all who seek to join the Expeditionary Group are trained, and then I may return to space for another exploratory expedition."

"Then sign me up," Jim said, and it felt right. Without a real home anymore, it would have felt wrong to settle somewhere on some strange planet and play pretend for the rest of his life, farming green cows, or whatever Vulcans did. This way, at least he would take full advantage of being rescued by aliens. He would get to know what the universe was really like, even if he would never be able to share it with the rest of humanity. At least he would not be alone.

* * *

 **Note: This was originally posted on my new tumblr. To see other little stories like this, ask me questions, or give me writing prompts, check it out at vtsuion dot tumblr dot com!**


	3. Chapter 3

Vulcan was a desert planet. Even in all his time alone on Earth, Jim had not dared to go anywhere nearly as inhospitable. It was scorching hot during the day and even at night it was not cold. During his first week on the planet, Jim watched the sand billow into tempestuous red clouds and pound against the transparent walls. Lightning danced across the open desert.

From his desk in their shared quarters, Spock watched Jim stare out at the storm. Eventually, Spock put aside his work and came to stand behind him by the window, one hand on the back of Jim's chair. They stayed there for a while, watching the sand swirl around them. It seemed to go on forever in a tumultuous sea of red. Jim almost lost himself out there; he could walk forever without getting anywhere, without seeing anyone.

It was only the feeling of Spock's hand, just barely brushing up against his shoulder, that rescued him from the gale and brought him back, safe inside.

"How do you live here, on a planet like this?" Jim marveled.

"It is not an easy place to live," Spock acknowledged. "Our logic is what enables us to survive and not descend into savagery."

Jim watched Spock's ghostly reflection in the glass as he spoke. His back straightened and he took pride in the doctrine even as it oppressed him.

But maybe that was the only way to survive on such a planet. The red sand raged and billowed against the glass around them. Jim was keenly aware that if he had been left alone on _this_ planet, he would not still be alive.

He turned around to look Spock in the eye. Spock was already looking at him, watching him with those sharp eyes, accentuated in blue and purple. He quirked a questioning eyebrow at Jim, something like concern in the barest downturn of his lips.

Jim smiled. More serious, he stared into Spock's dark, deep eyes and said, "Thank you, for everything."

Spock inclined his head toward him. His eyes seemed to soften and the corners of his lips twitched upward.

"It is my duty to protect you and to ensure that your needs are met," Spock said as though that was all it was.

Jim smiled again. When Spock returned his gaze once more, he had schooled his expression, but there was still a warmth in his eyes. Jim found he could not look away and had no desire to do so. There were unfathomable depths of emotion in those dark eyes, that dared to express things Spock would never have acknowledged. But they were there.

For the longest time, Jim had believed he would never see another person again, never have a conversation, or share a smile, or see that look in someone's eyes, like the way Spock was looking at him with such intensity. He spent a lot of time watching Spock - the other Vulcans too, but especially Spock - marveling about how human and how alien he was all at once.

He looked very exotic, set against the swirling red sand, with his faintly green skin and sharp, pointed ears. He was rigidly "other," in a fascinating sort of way that never let Jim quite forget that this was truly an alien. But his eyes were very human, angular as they were. Spock never looked at the other Vulcans like that, but whenever he looked at Jim there was a steady kindness, an openness in his eyes, as though to say, _you are not alone_. He anchored Jim amidst this alien storm on this alien planet.

The red sand swirled around them, tossed this way and that by the howling wind, but inside they were safe and only pleasantly warm. It could have been just the two of them on the whole planet for all they could see, their little room adrift in a galaxy of sand. Jim grinned and Spock almost seemed to smile back at him, awash in affection.

* * *

 **Note: This ended up as a bit of a study in writing romantic description.**


End file.
